Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of the Dark Lord
by AmyandBecci
Summary: In his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not only must Harry Potter come to terms with the death of his godfather, Sirius Black, he must learn to accept that, if he doesn't want to die a victim, he must become a murderer...
1. The First Summer Of The Second War

_**Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of the Dark Lord**_

Disclaimer - Harry Potter is a trademark of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros..

The title, 'Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of the Dark Lord', the banner, Belching Bonbons, and the characters of Holly Plumpton-Black and Amber, Selwyn and Lavinia Moore belong to the authors, and cannot be reproduced in any way without their consent.

All people and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any resemblence to any person and/or event is purely coincidental.

-CHAPTER ONE-

_The First Summer Of The Second War._

Harry Potter sat motionless in the ancient rocking chair, staring attentively at the old T.V set as the opening notes of music announced the start of the seven o'clock news.

_"Tonight: More strange disappearances cause police to question whether a serial killer is to blame _(dong)_; The plague strikes again as four more victims are found dead _(dong)_; Plane ticket prices have risen by 25 as thousands of Britons flee the country, trying to escape the deadly epidemic.." _

'That definitely sounds like You-Know-Who's work to me.' Mrs. Figg sighed, handing Harry a stale biscuit.

Harry dragged his eyes away from the T.V screen and turned to face the elderly woman. He still hadn't quite got over last year's revelation that his batty old cat-loving neighbour was, in fact, a Squib, and knew all about the wizarding world.

'How long do you think it will take the Muggles to figure out what's really happening?' Harry questioned anxiously.

'Well, they never figured out what was happening the first time round, so there's really no need to worry about it this time.' Mrs. Figg stated calmly.

Harry took a bite from his biscuit. Clearly Mrs. Figg had a point. The Muggles were stupid enough to believe that the numerous deaths were, in fact, due to a plague that had no apparent symptoms.

Still, he couldn't quite forget the time that he had gone to the Quidditch World Cup, some two years ago now. The Muggle campsite owner had been very suspicious of all the wizards that were congregating there. In fact, the poor man had had to have his memory modified on several occasions. It had taken quite a powerful charm to make him forget that Death Eaters had tortured his whole family - he'd still been confused when Harry had left. Surely the Ministry for Magic wouldn't allow for every Muggle in Britain to have their memory modified? And what about when the rest of the world found out about Voldemort? Would all those people have their memories modified too?

Mrs. Figg must have noticed the perturbed look on Harry's face.

'Muggles wouldn't believe in magic if you conjured up a tap-dancing elephant in front of their very eyes. They'd probably just say it was a trick of the light or something.' Mrs. Figg paused, smiling at her own joke. 'Yes, always looking for a "reasonable explanation" those Muggles.'

Harry swallowed the remainder of his biscuit. He really hoped that Mrs. Figg was right.

The short stroll from Wisteria Walk back to Privet Drive was enough to put Harry's mind at ease. If the rest of Britain were anything like the occupants of Little Whinging, then the secret of the Wizarding world would be safe for a long time.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he walked past house after house with shutters over the windows and red crosses painted on the doors. Some had even hung garlic up at their windows, to protect them from the deadly "plague" that was sweeping the nation.

The first summer of the second war had certainly been eventful. Harry had been following Lord Voldemort's rise to power since the beginning of the holidays. Keeping in touch with members of the Order of the Phoenix and reading the Daily Prophet, Harry had been able to keep track of everything that was happening in the Wizarding world, and by watching the seven o'clock news every night at Mrs. Figg's house, he knew how Voldemort's second attempt at domination was affecting the Muggles.

It had been somewhat inconspicuous at first - a death here, a disappearance there. The Muggles didn't really seem to notice - those were things that happened all the time in their world. But after ten seemingly healthy people drop dead with no apparent cause, then people start asking questions. That's when newspapers started leaking reports of a plague. Naturally, everyone panicked; supermarkets were raided, people quit their jobs and boarded up their houses. Other citizens fled the country as Voldemort grew stronger and began killing more and more people who stood in his way.

Harry slowly walked up the garden path of Number 4 Privet Drive, delaying the inevitable for as long as he possibly could. True, the Dursleys hadn't been as bad as usual this year (which was probably something to do with the talk they'd had with members of the Order when Harry had returned from Hogwarts last month.) but all they talked about nowadays was the "plague", even though Harry had tried to tell them again and again that it was Voldemort and there was no epidemic. Aunt Petunia had been the first person to race to the nearest supermarket and stock up on food, afraid that her precious Dudley would starve. Harry suppressed a giggle. Even if there was a plague, it wasn't very likely that his cousin would starve - he was already the size of a small hippopotamus.

Harry opened the door of his aunt and uncle's home, and stepped into the warmth of the hallway. He could here the sounds of the T.V coming from the living room, and hoped that his relatives were too engrossed in whatever stupid show they were watching to notice Harry's return. Harry slowly made his way to the foot of the stairs, avoiding the numerous crates of fizzy pop, loafs of bread and boxes of biscuits that cluttered the hall. He was just about to place his foot on the bottom-most step, when his uncle came bumbling out of the lounge.

'YOU! BOY! What time do you call this?" Uncle Vernon spluttered angrily.

'Ummm, quarter-to-eight.' Harry replied, watching his uncle turn a deep shade of purple.

'Quarter-to-eight? QUARTER-TO-EIGHT? I'LL GIVE YOU QUARTER-TO-EIGHT!" he fumed. 'PETUNIA!'

Harry waited for his skinny, horse-like aunt to appear, closely followed by Dudley, who wasn't even attempting to mask the look of pure delight that always crossed his piggy face when Harry was being told off.

'Petunia, fetch the disinfectant. We can't have the likes of him bringing infected spores into the house.' Uncle Vernon ordered. 'And you boy! What do you think you're doing venturing out into the plague-ridden streets at all times of the day? Trying to infect us are you, boy?"

'I told you, there's no such thing as the plague! It's V-'

'I don't want to hear your feeble excuses, boy! Think your immune to the plague, do you? No doubt it was one of your kind that started this whole thing off.' he roared.

'Vernon! Shhh! The neighbours might hear.' Aunt Petunia hissed, running back into the hallway, wearing pink rubber gloves, a surgical mask and carrying a large bottle of disinfectant.

She then began to spray liberal amounts of the foul smelling liquid all over Harry, and anywhere else she suspected he might have infected. Harry used the diversion to dash upstairs to his room.

'I WILL NOT HAVE YOU INFECTING MY FAMILY!' Uncle Vernon shouted after him.

Once he was safely in his room, Harry lifted the loose floorboard under his bed, and removed the large cake that Mrs. Weasley had sent for his sixteenth birthday. It was starting to become a little stale now, but even old cake was better than the rations Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon has been giving him.

His eyes scanned over the birthday cards on his desk. There was one less than last year - now Sirius was gone. Harry felt his stomach twist into knots of sadness, and felt the tears stinging his eyes. It was his fault that Sirius was dead. If only he hadn't raced to the Department of Mysteries. It was a trap - of course it was. Looking back now, it was obviously Voldemort's work. But he had fallen for it, and now Sirius was dead.

Harry reached for the broken two-way mirror his godfather had given him last year. He had told Harry to use it if he needed to talk to him, but Harry had forgotten all about it. If only he had remembered it. _If only, if only, if only._ But what good was _if only_? 'If only' wasn't going to bring Sirius back. Nothing could bring Sirius back.

White hot anger blazed through Harry, he picked up the nearest object, a _homework planner_ Hermione had given him last Christmas, and hurled it against the wall. It hit the floor with a thud.

_'If you've dotted the "i"s and crossed the "t"s then you may do whatever you please!'_ it said happily.

Harry groaned.

A soft tapping interrupted Harry's thoughts. He opened the bedroom window, letting an overzealous Pig zoom into the room, and sending the cardboard "plague-proof" shutters plummeting onto the garden, for the third time that week. Harry managed to keep the little owl still long enough to pull off the letter fastened to it's leg.

'_Harry - Mum reckons you'll have had enough of the Muggles by now. So we're going to pick you up on Saturday, and you can stay with us for the rest of the holidays. Dad says he'll fellytone the Muggles tomorrow, but we'll be coming on Saturday at 6 o'clock whether they like it or not._

_See you soon,_

_Ron_

_P.S: How were your O.W.L grades? Mine were better than I thought! I bet they're not as good as Hermione's though._

_P.P.S: Congratulations on making Quidditch captain - I knew you would!'_

Harry took a spare piece of parchment, and hastily scribbled a reply to his best friend;

_'Ron - See you on Saturday!'_

He looked at the unopened brown envelope on his desk, _'Harry James Potter - O.W.L results'_, Maybe he would just neglect to mention anything about exam results just now. He signed his name at the bottom of the parchment and send it back to Ron with Pig.

'HARRY POTTER!' Uncle Vernon bellowed up the stairs. 'GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!'

Harry rolled his eyes. He could do without another lecture from his aunt and uncle about keeping out infected spores in the air. What did it even matter that Harry opened his window? The so-called-plague didn't even exist.

'POTTER!' Uncle Vernon roared, his patience beginning to wane.

Before he even realised what he was doing, Harry was throwing his belongings into a trunk and making his way downstairs - wand at the ready.

'What - Where - What?' Uncle Vernon spluttered, his face turning a deep shade of puce.

'I'm going to stay with the Weasleys.' Harry answered his Uncle's unspoken question.

'Those _freaks_?' Aunt Petunia cut in.

'At least those "freaks" can think of something else to talk about other than a plague that doesn't even exist!' Harry triumphed, throwing open the door and stepping outside into the cool night air.

As Harry made his way down the garden path, dragging his belongings behind him, he could hear Uncle Vernon's panicked shouts, urging Aunt Petunia to get the disinfectant.

Harry shook his head in disbelief - how thick could you get?


	2. Knight Bus to The Burrow

_**Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of the Dark Lord**_

- CHAPTER TWO -

_Knight Bus to The Burrow_

Standing at the end of the road, breathless from hauling his heavy trunk, Harry checked his surroundings. It was dark, and he knew that everyone in Little Whinging was probably inside, cowering behind shuttered windows in fear of the "plague", but second nature made him look around anyway, searching for anyone who might be clever enough not to believe in all the nonsense that had been printed in newspapers and magazines, and talked about constantly on T.V. Or even for someone who may be peering out of the windows.

But there was no-one. The street remained eerily quiet.

Harry inhaled deeply, then stuck out his hand, clutching his wand tightly. At once there was an almighty BANG as a bright purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere. The conductor, dressed in a uniform which matched the colour of the bus, jumped from the vehicle and began his speech.

'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency-' he stopped suddenly. 'Well, if it isn't 'Arry Potter!'

'Hello, Stan.' Harry replied, attempting a smile. Somehow he couldn't quite forget the first time he had flagged down the Knight Bus - or the ride that was to follow.

'Bit dangerous, hangin' roun' the streets on your own, when You-Know-'Oo's on the loose innit?' Stan asked, shivering at the mere thought of Voldemort prowling the country.

'That's why I flagged you down.' Harry stated flatly. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture about safety, especially from someone wearing a uniform so bright it was almost blinding.

'Where didja wanna go then, 'Arry?' Stan smiled jovially.

'Ottery St. Catchpole.' Harry answered.

'Where abouts in Ottery St. Catchpole?' Stan questioned, helping Harry to lift his belongings onto the bus.

'The Burrow.' Harry replied, a glow of happiness spreading through him. 'I'm going back to the Burrow.'

The Knight Bus was different to how Harry remembered it. There were still brass bedsteads in place of seats, but, on Harry's first trip there had been other wizards. This time Harry got the distinct feeling that he was the only other person here. Stan lead Harry to the front of the bus, and pushed his trunk under the bed nearest the driver.

'Ottery St. Catchpole, Ern.' Stan said to the elderly driver. ''Arry Potter's goin' to the Burrow.'

There was another defeaning BANG before the Knight Bus began hurtling down the road at terrific speed, everything from trees to houses leaping out of the way to avoid being flattened by the purple monstrosity.

'You should consider yourself lucky, 'Arry.' Stan said, trying his best to stay upright as the bus took a sharp corner. 'This business with You-Know-'Oo has put wizards right off travellin'. We can 'ead straight to Ottery St. Catchpole.' he grinned. 'We'll be there in no time.'

Harry remained quiet during the journey. He couldn't help thinking that he should have let the Weasley's know he would be arriving there shortly. It was more than a little rude just to turn up unannounced after all. But he couldn't stand to spend another second at the Dursleys, and he had nowhere else to go. Maybe if Sirius were still alive, he would be asking Stan to head to Grimmauld Place - his godfather's home and headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Lupin would be there, and Moody and Tonks - maybe even Dumbledore. A thought suddenly occurred to him - what if the Weasleys were at Grimmauld Place? Maybe that's where they would be taking him when they came to pick him up on Saturday. He was heading to the Burrow and there was a possibility that the Weasleys wouldn't even be there.

Harry was propelled forward suddenly, as Ernie slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus shrieked to a halt outside a very familiar house. Relief washed over Harry in waves, as he noticed that a light was on in almost every one of the windows of the Burrow.

''Ere we are then 'Arry.' Stan smiled, dragging Harry's trunk off the bus.

'Thank you.' Harry replied, handing Stan some silver coins. 'Bye, then.'

There was yet another BANG as the Knight Bus disappeared, and Harry was left alone, standing outside the home of the Weasleys.

'Harry? Is that you?' Charlie Weasley's voice called from an upstairs window.

'Yes.' Harry replied nervously. 'Ummm, sorry to come on such short notice.'

Charlie's head disappeared from the window, and moments later Mrs. Weasley had opened the front door.

'Harry?' she cried in disbelief. 'What are you doing here? Not that we're not pleased to see you. But we were going to come and get you on Saturday - didn't you get Ron's letter? He did say we would be coming to get you on Saturday?'

'Ummm, yes. But, well...I, er... thought I'd come early.' Harry mumbled.

'Harry! You could have been killed!' Mrs. Weasley cried, her voice taking on the tone she used when she was telling off one of her own children. 'You know better than anyone, that You-Know-Who is out there - no doubt looking for _you_. And you put yourself...in ... in _mortal danger!' _she finishedsuddenly enveloping Harry in a suffocating embrace.

'Mum, maybe Harry would like to come inside the house?' Ron called from the doorway.

'Oh, of course. _Of course_.' Mrs. Weasley whispered, breaking away from Harry and ushering him into the warmth and light of the house.

'Cup of tea, Harry? Or maybe some hot chocolate? We've already had our tea, but I could fix you up some toast, or some nice, warm soup?' Mrs. Weasley fussed, sitting Harry down at the kitchen table.

'No, thank you. I'm OK.' Harry refused politely.

'Well, if I can get you anything, just ask.' Mrs. Weasley smiled.

'All right, Harry?' Ron asked, sitting himself down next to his best friend. 'Ginny had such a shock when she heard the Knight Bus - she thought You-Know-Who had come to get us!' he laughed.

'Ronald Weasley! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not a laughing matter. Ginny had every reason to be frightened.' Mrs. Weasley snapped.

'Yeah, but it's just the thought of the most evil wizard in Britain, hopping aboard the Knight Bus.' Ron smirked.

Harry had to smile as he imagined Stan talking to Voldemort.

'What didja say your name was?... Lord Voldemort, eh? Didja 'ear that Ern? He's a Lord!... an' where is it your goin'?... Ottery St. Catchpole, eh? What's a Lord doin' in Ottery St. Catchpole, I wonder? ... Murdering people, you say? Do that sort of thing often, do you?'

'So, what's been going on around here then?' Harry asked his friend.

'Let's go upstairs, I'll tell you all about it then.. You can put your stuff in my room.' Ron replied.

Ron's room was exactly how Harry remembered it. The same posters of the Chudley Cannons (Ron's favourite Quidditch team) lined the wall, giving the room a decidedly orange glow, and the fish tank on the windowsill was still home to the enormous frog. In the corner of the room, Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, was fluttering excitedly in it's cage.

'I just got your letter when you arrived.' Ron stated, sitting down on his bed. 'You could have told me you were coming.'

'I know. Sorry.' Harry apologised. 'It's just that the Dursleys have been acting weirder than usual with Voldmort getting stronger, and I honestly couldn't take another second of it.' he explained.

'He's getting stronger in the Muggle world too? That's bad.' Ron whispered nervously.

'Yeah, but they don't know it's Voldemort. They think it's a plague.' Harry said.

'A plague?' Ron snorted. 'Those Muggles can be really thick sometimes.'

'Yeah, tell me about it. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have boarded up all the windows, so infected spores can't get into the house!' he laughed.

'Didn't you tell them there wasn't a plague?' Ron questioned happily.

'Of course I did, but they didn't believe me. Anyway, what's been going on here?'

'Well, Lee Jordan went to work with Fred and George in the joke shop they bought down Diagon Alley - and guess what they've called it?' Ron smiled.

'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?' Harry guessed, recalling the incident with the Ton-Tongue toffees just before the Quidditch World Cup.

'Exactly.' Ron grinned. 'Anyway, business is doing really well and Mum's nearly forgiven them for dropping out of school with no N.E.W.Ts and only a handful of O.W.Ls.' he continued. 'How did you do in your exams anyway? You didn't say in your letter.'

Harry was just about to confess that he hadn't even opened his O.W.L results yet when the bedroom door swung open and Percy's head peered around the door.

'Oh, hello Harry. I was just coming to ask you to keep the noise down. I have a very important essay to write on the standard length of broomsticks bristles.' he said pompously.

'Oh, yeah, and Percy's come crawling back.' Ron added flatly.


	3. The Demise of Diagon Alley

**_Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of The Dark Lord_**

- CHAPTER THREE -

_The Demise of Diagon Alley_

Harry sat at the Weasley's kitchen table and shovelled another forkful of warm pancakes into his mouth. Hot, gooey syrup ran down his chin. Embarrassed, he quickly used the sleeve of his jumper to wipe away the sticky treacle. He hadn't actually realised how hungry he was.

'I want you to get your things together after breakfast.' Mrs. Weasley addressed the table, piling more pancakes onto Harry's already full plate. 'It's straight to Grimmauld Place after we've been to get your school supplies, so make sure you don't forget anything.'

'Will Hermione be meeting us there?' Harry asked Ron.

'Dunno.' Ron mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes. 'S'pect so.'

'We did ask her to come and stay with us a couple of weeks ago, but she wanted to stay with her parents.' Ginny added, 'She's really worried about them.'

Harry nodded. He supposed he'd be worried about the Dursleys too, if he didn't hate them so much.

'How are the Muggles coping with everything, Harry?' Mr. Weasley asked curiously.

'Ummm, not very well I'm afraid.' Harry admitted.

'They think all the deaths are because of a plague!' Ron added, sniggering.

'Really? A plague? That's interesting.' Mr. Weasley replied, intrigued.

'Ron! It's _not funny_.' Mrs. Weasley scolded her son, who was now laughing so hard he was fighting for breath. 'Those poor dears. They have absolutely no idea what's going on.'

'It's for the best really though.' Percy stated pretentiously. 'I mean, imagine all the mayhem it would cause the Ministry if the Muggles knew the truth.'

After the remainder of the pancakes had been demolished, Harry and Ron, feeling comfortably bloated, made their way to the top of the house to pack their belongings. Harry didn't have much to pack since he'd only arrived at the Weasleys a few days ago. Instead, he sat on the bed and watched Ron throw his things haphazardly into his trunk.

'Ron?' Harry questioned suddenly, 'Will we have to carry our trunks around Diagon Alley?'

'No. I expect Bill, Charlie and Percy will take them straight to Grimmauld Place, seen as they can Apparate and all.' Ron replied, tossing a pair of maroon socks into his trunk.

While Ron was focusing all his attention on desperately trying to close the lid of his trunk, Harry took the opportunity to pull a brown envelope out of his own trunk without being seen. After folding it in half, Harry hurriedly shoved the letter into the pocket of his jeans.

Diagon Alley was almost unrecogniseable from the last time Harry had been there. Tucked behind an old pub in the centre of London, the place had been Harry's first glimpse into the magical world, and Harry had always associated the street with happy memories. But now, the once crowded cobblestone street was almost deserted. The hustle and bustle of witches and wizards going about their business had been replaced by an eerie quietness, and shops that had once proudly displayed colourful and interesting items in the windows, had been boarded up or abandoned. It was as though Voldemort's return had cast a dark shadow over the entire street.

Harry shivered at his own thought.

'It's weird isn't it?' Ron asked, almost as if he was reading Harry's mind. 'I wonder where all the other Hogwarts students are?'

'Maybe they've already been to get their stuff?' Harry answered uncertainly.

'Yeah.' Ron too sounded unconvinced.

'Come on, lets go and see Fred and George. Standing here is creeping me out.' Ginny muttered, walking towards one of the few shops that remained open.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was one of the most amazing shops Harry had ever seen. Every wall was covered with colourful inventions that the twins had spent hours perfecting. Barrels of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Canary Creams, and Belching Bonbons were lined beneath the window; Headless Hats, Portable Swamps, Extendable Ears and fake wands filled shelves, and a glass case in the middle of the room proudly displayed Weasleys' Wildfire Whizz-bangs. In the centre of it all stood Fred and George and their best friend, Lee Jordan, surrounded by an exhibit of Skiving Snackboxes.

'Wow! This is brilliant!' Harry exclaimed.

'We know!' said Fred and George simultaneously.

'So, how are you Harry?' Fred asked cheerfully.

'And how were your O.W.L results?' George grinned.

'I...ummm. Well...' Harry stuttered.

'That bad, eh? Never mind, Harry. Me and Fred didn't do so good in our exams, and look at us now! Getting paid for inventing pranks! We even outsold Zonko's Joke Shop last month!' George replied happily.

'So, it's still going well then?' Ron asked, greedily eyeing the Ton-Tongue Toffees.

'Of course, little brother.' Fred replied.

'What, even though no-one wants to leave their house in case You-Know-Who attacks them?' Ron questioned bluntly.

'We've come up with a solution to that problem.' George smiled.

'What?' Ron asked curiously.

'Mail order catalogues!' Lee grinned, handing glossy pamphlets to Ron, Harry and Ginny. 'Buy anything your heart desires, without even leaving the comfort of your own home!'

'You think of everything don't you.' Ginny laughed.

After lining their pockets with Ton-Tongue Toffees and Belching Bonbons (a new invention of the twins'), Harry, Ron and Ginny left Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and headed to Flourish and Blotts for their new school books.

'Harry, why didn't you-' Ron started, entering the book shop.

'Ron, Harry, Ginny!' Hermione interrupted, emerging from behind a large stack of Arithmancy books. 'It's so great to see you!'

'Hey Hermione!' Harry smiled, glad to see his friend again. 'How are you?'

The smile on Hermione's face disappeared.

'Scared.' she admitted grimly. 'I suppose I didn't expect V- Voldemort's presence in the Muggle world to be quite so-' she stopped, searching for the right words.

'Obvious?' Harry offered.

'Well, yeah. And I'm really worried about Mum and Dad.' she continued nervously.

'I'm sure they'll be fine.' Ginny soothed. 'You-Know-Who's just going after important people from the Ministry. People that are standing in his way.'

Hermione didn't look at all convinced, but she didn't say any more on the subject.

'So, how were your O.W.L results?' Ron asked finally.

'OK.' Hermione replied. 'I passed all my exams, but I got an 'E' for Astronomy _and_ Ancient Runes.' she sighed, disappointedly.

'Oh.' Ron mumbled, suddenly thinking his results weren't so good after all. 'I got an 'O' for Care of Magical Creatures and an 'E' for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology, an 'A' for Potions, Astronomy, Divination, Charms and History of Magic.' he paused, uncertainly. 'But I got a 'P' for Transfiguration.' he admitted.

'That's really good, Ron.' Hermione beamed. 'What about you, Harry? How were your results?'

Harry gulped.

'I...er...' he stuttered, again.

'Well?' Hermione prompted.

Harry could feel three inquisitive pairs of eyes staring at him. It was time to come clean.

'I haven't opened my results yet.' he confessed hurriedly.

'What?' Hermione uttered in bewilderment. 'Why?'

'I don't know.' Harry replied honestly. 'I guess I thought, if I didn't open them, a part of me could hang on to the dream of becoming an Auror.' he finished, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

'But aren't you dying to know how you've done?' Ron inquired.

'Not really.' Harry answered.

'And how do you know what books to buy if you don't know what classes you'll be taking?' Hermione added.

'Fine.' Harry retorted, pulling the brown envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. 'I'll find out now.'

With trembling hands, Harry ripped open the envelope and pulled out the piece of parchment containing his results...


	4. Return to Grimmauld Place

**_Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of the Dark Lord_**

- CHAPTER FOUR -

_Return to Grimmauld Place_

Dark clouds skulked overhead, threatening to rain, as Harry stood outside the peeling black door that had just appeared between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place. Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped the door once, sending some old flakes of black paint tumbling to the floor. The clinking, clanking sound of numerous metallic locks being opened filled the cool, evening air.

Harry gazed around the old, decrepit housing estate to make sure no-one was watching them, but he needn't have worried. All the windows and doors of the surrounding houses had been boarded up, much like the houses in Little Whinging. Only, Harry wasn't sure whether the residents of this neighbourhood had boarded up their homes because of the so-called plague, or because of vandalism.

The door of Number 12 creaked open, and Harry followed Hermione and the Weasleys into the dark, gloomy hallway to be greeted by Remus Lupin, one of Harry's old Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers.

'Now, remember to keep quiet.' Mrs. Weasley hissed, nervously glancing at a pair of old moth-eaten curtains.

Harry didn't need reminding. He could never forget that behind those curtains was a horribly realistic, life-size portrait of Mrs. Black - Sirius' mother. He also couldn't forget that even the slightest noise would wake the portrait and that she would start screaming and shouting a barrage of insults at anyone who walked by.

'Now why don't you lot go upstairs and get settled, while I make us all some dinner?' Mrs. Weasley smiled.

'But we want to see everyone first.' Ron protested.

'You can see them all at dinner.' Mrs. Weasley whispered sternly. 'Now, go on. Upstairs!'

Mrs. Weasley followed her husband down to the basement kitchen, and Ginny tiptoed up the stairs, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione in the hallway with Lupin.

'Had a nice summer, Harry?' Lupin smiled.

'Not really.' Harry answered honestly. 'Better than last year though, I suppose.'

Lupin was about to reply, when Hermione suddenly gasped.

'Oh, no!' she cried, tears welling in her eyes as she raced over to the display of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall.

'We know, Hermione. It's a bunch of dead house-elves. We saw them last year, remember?' Ron sighed impatiently. He was thoroughly exasperated with Hermione's protest to free all house-elves from enslavement.

'I know we saw it last year, Ron.' Hermione snapped. 'But look.'

Harry suddenly realised why Hermione was so upset. Beside the shrunken heads of the other house-elves, was Kreacher, the elf that had worked for the Order of the Phoenix last year, and had a rather unhealthy obsession with Sirius' dead mother.

'Ah, yes.' Lupin sighed. 'Rather a shame. Can't say I feel sorry for him though.'

'What?' Hermione hissed, trying her best not to yell and wake up Mrs. Black's portrait. 'Why? He was just a poor, innocent, confused house-elf.'

'Oh, whatever Hermione!' Harry yelled. 'Is that why he went to the Malfoys and told them all about my connection to Sirius? That _"poor, innocent, confused house-elf"_ is partly to blame for my godfather's death!' he spat angrily.

A horrible wailing, screeching sound filled the air, and Harry turned around to find that the moth-eaten curtains had burst open, revealing Mrs. Black, her eyes rolling and her yellowing skin stretched as she screamed.

'_Filth. Blood-traitors. Mudbloods!' _she shrieked. '_Be gone from this house! How dare you trespass in the Ancient and Most Noble house of Black?'_

Lupin raced over to the curtain and dragged it back across Mrs. Black's haggard face. At once the screaming and shouting stopped.

'Sorry.' Harry apologised.

'It's OK. And you're right, Harry. Kreacher did go to the Malfoys, and he did tell them about you and Sirius.' Hermione replied.

'Not to mention his attack on Buckbeak.' Ron added quietly.

'Yes. But Buckbeak got his revenge.' Lupin smiled mischievously.

'What? You mean - Buckbeak...?' Hermione's voice trailed off.

'Well, he was found in Buckbeak's room, but we can't be certain - it may just have been an unfortunate accident. But I dare say that Beaky's feeling quite happy.' Lupin grinned.

A dull _clunk, clunk, clunk_ noise drew closer towards them, and moments later Harry heard Moody's gruff voice.

'Hello, Potter.' he growled. 'Nice O.W.L results.' he continued, his magical eye focused on the piece of parchment in the pocket of Harry's jeans. 'With grades like that you shouldn't have any problem becoming an Auror.'

'Mind if I take a look, Harry?' Lupin asked eagerly.

Harry pulled the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Lupin.

_**Harry James Potter - O.W.L results**_

_Astronomy_

'_**A'**_

_Care of Magical Creatures_

'_**O'**_

_Charms_

'_**E'**_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts_

'_**O'**_

_Divination_

'_**A'**_

_Herbology_

'_**O'**_

_History of Magic_

'_**P'**_

_Potions_

'_**E'**_

_Transfiguration_

'_**E'**_

'Well done, Harry!' Lupin grinned. 'Shame about History of Magic though.'

'Yeah. I passed out during the exam.' Harry recalled, shivering at the memory.

'Well, you'd better be going to your rooms now, then.' Lupin said suddenly, noticing the look of sadness that had fallen across Harry's face. 'No doubt you want to get settled in before dinner.' he added, walking back down the stairs and towards the kitchen door.

Harry sat at the long wooden table in the centre of the kitchen, and filled his mouth with sausage and mashed potatoes. All around him members of the Order talked and laughed, and Harry couldn't help thinking how strange it was that Sirius wasn't there. At the end of the table, Tonks was transforming herself, much to the amusement of Hermione and Ginny. Harry watched for a little while, before turning back to his dinner, listening to fragments of Mr. Weasley and Lupin's conversation.

'... what with Percy's demotion and all the letters of complaint, I think it's only a matter of time.' Mr. Weasley said.

'Who do you think will take over? Dumbledore?' Lupin replied.

'No, no - never wanted the job... word is it's someone from abroad... Bulgaria, I think.'

Harry tried to hear more of the conversation, but there were so many other discussions going on, that it was hard to untangle one from another. Still, Harry had heard that Percy had been demoted - maybe that's why he had come crawling back to his family after walking out on them last year? Harry had noticed, before he left the Burrow, that Percy had returned to all the family photographs. But what else had they been talking about? Only a matter of time 'til what? And what had it got to do with his headmaster? Harry thought he'd been keeping up to date with events in the Wizarding world, but clearly he was wrong.

After dinner, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the drawing room. Hermione had said that she wanted to get to work on a new campaign for elfish rights, and as she had appointed Harry secretary and Ron treasurer, she had dragged them in to help.

'Ron!' Hermione sighed, exasperated. 'It's S-P-E-W, not _SPEW, _youhave to put full-stops in-between the letters.' she scolded, talking to her freind as though she were a primary school teacher. 'Remember that, Ron. _It's important_.'

Ron looked up from the badge he was colouring in, and exchanged glances with Harry.

'Why are we starting this _spew_ nonsense again?' Ron asked iratibly.

'Because, I know Kreacher was... _strange_ and all, but it really is wrong to be keeping house-elves enslaved. If Kreacher was free, he may never have become _strange _and then he wouldn't have gone and told all those things to the Malfoys.' Hermione stated. 'And we're not _"starting it again"_ because we never stopped. And it's _not nonsense_' she added.

Ron rolled his eyes.

'Whatever. Can't we finish these badges tomorrow? I'm tired.' Ron replied, making a show out of yawning.

Harry yawned too.

'Ron's right, Hermione. We can finish this tomorrow.'

'Well, just make sure you do!' Hermione huffed. 'You might not think my campaign is important, but I do.'

And with that, Hermione stormed to her room, leaving Ron and Harry sat in the drawing room, lost for words.

'Come, on.' Ron said eventually.'I suppose we'd better go to bed.'


	5. Death and Destruction

**_Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of The Dark Lord_**

- CHAPTER FIVE -

_Death and Destruction_

Harry woke early the next morning with Pigwidgeon twittering excitedly in his ear. The sun was streaming through a chink in the curtains and outside the bedroom door he heard the distinct sound of people running up and down the stairs. It was obviously time to get up. As Harry threw off the itchy brown blanket that covered him, there was a knock on the door.

'Come on, boys.' Mrs. Weasley's voice called through the wooden door. 'There's a meeting for the Order today, so if you want some breakfast, I suggest you get some now.'

Harry pulled some clothes out of his trunk and threw them on hurriedly, before racing downstairs to the basement kitchen. Hermione and Ginny were already sitting at the table when Harry got there.

'Hi, Harry!' said Ginny, looking up from her bowl of cereal. 'Where's Ron?'

'Still upstairs. He was just getting out of bed when I left.' Harry replied, grabbing a piece of toast.

'Well he'd better hurry up.' said Hermione impatiently. 'The meeting's starting soon, and I expect that the Order won't want any of us hanging around when they have important matters to discuss.'

'Plus, he's the only one of us who has Extendable Ears!' Ginny added with a smile.

Harry grinned, remembering the invention of Fred and George's that they had used last year to hear what was going on when the adults were in meetings. The Ears had worked quite well until Mrs. Weasley had found out about them and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.

'I thought we could continue with the S.P.E.W campaign after breakfast.' Hermione said, buttering her toast.

'Not that again.' Ron mumbled, walking into the kitchen and helping himself to some muffins.

Hermione gave him a dark look, but didn't retaliate.

'Have you got the Extendable Ears, Ron?' Ginny asked anxiously.

'I'll find them after breakfast.' replied Ron, his mouth full with muffin.

'I wouldn't waste my time, Ron.' said Percy as he entered the room. 'I will, of course, be putting a charm on the door so that non-members can't hear what's being said.'

'We would be members if we were old enough.' Ginny remarked angrily.

'But you're not old enough, are you?' Percy stated smugly.

Ginny's face fell.

'Now, if you don't mind, I need you to leave so I can make the room presentable for the other members.' he continued, ushering them out into the hallway.

'Git.' Ron muttered, once Percy was out of earshot. 'We're more a part of the Order than him. Percy didn't even believe You-Know-Who was back until a couple of months ago.' he raged.

Ron had a point, Harry thought angrily. It was unfair that they should be left in the dark about events that concerned them, just because of their age. After all that Harry had been through in his sixteen years, he felt that he should at least be kept informed with what was happening in the Wizarding world. And now that Sirius was gone, he doubted he'd ever find out what Voldemort was up to. It was as though the countless times he had come face to face with the Dark Lord meant nothing.

'Well, since we won't be able to use the Extendable Ears, we may as well get to work on the new campaign.' said Hermione eventually.

Harry could think of at least a hundred other things he'd rather be doing right now, and from the look on Ron's face, so could he. But he knew how important S.P.E.W was to Hermione, and he didn't want to upset her again after last night.

'Sure.' he agreed reluctantly, forcing a smile.

'Great!' Hermione beamed. 'There's lots of work to do, if you'd like to help, Ginny?' she added.

'Er..No thanks. I'm going to do some reading before we get back to school.' Ginny lied.

'OK.' Hermione replied, oblivious to her friend's lie. 'We'll be in the drawing room if you change your mind.'

Harry soundlessly tiptoed past the moth-eaten curtains that hid Mrs. Black's portrait, careful not to knock over the severed troll's leg umbrella stand, as he made his way to the stairs, followed by Ron, Hermione and Ginny. When they reached the first floor, Ginny headed to the room she shared with Hermione, and the others entered the drawing room.

Although Harry had been in the room the previous night, he hadn't noticed how clean and tidy it was until this morning. The moss-green velvet curtains, that had once been home to hundreds of Doxies, looked almost brand new, the once-grimy windows sparkled and all of the furniture gleamed. In fact, now he thought about it, the whole house was cleaner and tidier. The dank smell that had lingered in all the rooms the previous year had disappeared, the threadbare carpet had been repaired, and a lot of the old ornaments and portraits had gone. The members of the Order must have been hard at work.

'Where have all my notes gone?' Hermione yelled furiously. 'I left everything on the table last night, and now it's not there!'

'What a shame.' replied Ron sarcastically. 'Now we can't make dumb badges either.'

Hermione suddenly turned on Ron.

'It was you, wasn't it?' she cried angrily. 'You're always talking about how stupid my campaign is, and now you've... you've _sabotaged_ it!'

'I did not! Did I, Harry?' Ron retorted.

'He's right, Hermione. It couldn't have been Ron, he left the room at the same time I did last night.'

'Well, it figures _you_ would take _his_ side.' Hermione retaliated. 'Maybe he did it this morning, Harry, did you even consider that? You took an awfully long time to get to breakfast, Ron. Thought you'd come and ruin my campaign first, did you? she spat.

'It _wasn't me_!' yelled Ron irately.

'Then who was it?' she screamed.

'Excuse me, Miss' a little voice called from the doorway, 'It was us.'

Hermione stared dumbfounded at the two house-elves standing nervously by the door.

'We're sorry, Miss' the other, smaller house-elf continued. 'We didn't think it was important.'

'Where...? Why...? What...?' Hermione spluttered incoherently.

'Hello, my name's Harry Potter, and these are my friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.' said Harry politely.

'I'm Hogni.' said the larger house-elf, 'And this is my sister, Helgi' he said pointing to the smaller elf beside him.

'It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter.' Helgi curtsied. 'Dobby tells us many great things about you.

'You know Dobby?' Harry asked, intrigued.

'Oh yes.' Helgi answered. 'It was because of him that we got our new job.'

'But wouldn't you rather be free?' said Hermione, suddenly finding her voice.

'We were free, after our Mistress died.' Hogni said sadly. 'But we wanted to work. House-elves like to work. Dobby told us that we should go and see Dumbledore, and he gave us both a job.'

'Dumbledore is a good Master.' Helgi added. 'We like working at Grimmauld Place.'

'And are you getting paid?' Hermione asked.

Hogni and Helgi burst into fits of laughter. Harry had never heard a house-elf laugh before, and found it very strange.

'House-elves should not be getting paid, Miss.' Helgi giggled. 'House-elves like to work.'

'But, Dobby gets paid.' Hermione sighed, exasperated.

'Well, between you and me,' Hogni began, lowering his voice to a whisper, 'Dobby is a little _weird_.'

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

'Well, I think someone owes me an apology.' Ron stated.

'Ummm, yeah. Sorry Ron.' replied Hermione. 'I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.'

Harry heard the front door open downstairs, and moments later Ginny had appeared in the doorway.

'It's Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody.' she hissed, 'I'm going to see if I can hear anything interesting before they go into the meeting.'

She held up a pair of Extendable Ears.

'Where did you get those?' Ron questioned.

'Does it matter?' Ginny blushed. 'We're missing out on conversation!'

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked onto the stairs landing, but they didn't need Extendable Ears to hear what was being said below.

'Just waiting for Fred and George now.' Mr. Weasley's voice floated up the stairs.

'Where are they?' Mrs. Weasley sighed. 'I told them time and time again that the meeting was starting at 9 o'clock.'

'Molly, Arthur, we have some bad news. Perhaps you should sit down.' Tonks said softly.

'What's happened?' said Mrs. Weasley, panic in her voice.

'There's been an explosion in Diagon Alley.' Moody began. 'We're not sure if it's You-Know-Who's work, but a few shops have collapsed...'

'Do you know which shops?' Mr. Weasley asked, tears distorting his voice.

'No, but there have been three casualties. Two dead, and one critically injured.' Tonks explained.

Harry felt his insides tie into knots. Fred and George couldn't be dead. He'd seen them in Diagon Alley just the other day. Tonks' words swam around in his head; _"...three casualties. Two dead, and one critically injured." _Fred and George had been with Lee Jordan._ "...three casualties. Two dead, and one critically injured." _Harry tried to shake the thought from his mind, but it was as though it had been permanently etched onto his brain - just like Sirius' death...and Cedric Diggory's. Harry could hear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley crying in the hallway, but it seemed to become more and more distant. He was no longer aware of his surroundings. It was almost as if his mind had left Grimmauld Place and had left his body behind. He knew he should get back to Ron and Ginny, to make sure that they were OK, but he couldn't convince his mind to return to his body.

Suddenly, he was blinded by white hot pain. His head felt like it was about to explode from the intense throbbing of his scar. He desperately clutched his head, trying in vain to make the pain subside. But it was no use. He could feel his mind becoming more and more separate from his body, as a cold blackness engulfed him. He needed to get back. He_ had_ to get back. But he couldn't concentrate. The pain was making him dizzy.

The next thing he knew he was falling...


	6. The Aftermath

**_Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of The Dark Lord_**

- CHAPTER SIX -

_The Aftermath_

Harry's head was still throbbing when he came round, but, thankfully, most of the pain had subsided. He could hear panic-stricken voices calling his name, distant at first, then drawing closer and closer. Finally, his mind and body reunited, and Harry's eyes flickered open.

'Oh, thank goodness. He's OK.' Mrs. Weasley sighed with relief. 'You gave us quite a fright, Harry.' she smiled down at him.

Harry tried to get up from the hard hallway floor, but every bone and muscle in his body ached.

'What happened?' he managed to murmur.

The crowd of anxious looking people surrounding him exchanged glances.

'Don't you remember?' asked Ron.

Harry shook his head, then, overcome with dizziness and nausea, immediately wished he hadn't.

'You collapsed and fell down the stairs, Harry.' Mrs. Weasley explained softly.

'You've been unconscious for ages.' Ron added, 'If you were out any longer Dad was going to take you to St. Mungo's.'

Memories of the morning slowly swam into Harry's mind, blurry at first, then clearer and sharper. He remembered standing on the first floor landing, looking down into the hallway, listening to a conversation. A horrible conversation. There had been an explosion in Diagon Alley. Fred and George were dead. Then... what had happened after that? His scar had started hurting. No, that was an understatement - he had been in agony. The pain had been so intense he had fainted. There was something else though...he had definitely forgotten something. Someone had been laughing just before he passed out. A high pitched, maniacal laugh...

A wave of icy cold washed over Harry, as the final hazy details became focused. He had heard Voldemortlaughing._ Voldemort was happy_.

'Are you OK, Harry?' Hermione's tearstained face hovered above him.

'No. No, I think I need to lie down.' Harry replied tremulously.

'Maybe we should take you to St. Mungo's?' said Lupin worriedly. 'You had quite a nasty fall. You may have concussion.'

'No.' Harry snapped. 'I'll be fine. I just want to lie down.'

Harry lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that spilled down his face. Fred and George were dead. Voldemort was_ happy_ that they were dead. Why did he have to know what his enemy was feeling? He hated it. He hated his stupid scar. He hated that he couldn't even look in the mirror without being reminded of Voldemort - of what Voldemort did to his parents. But most of all he hated Voldemort himself. _Voldemort_ was the reason that Harry had his stupid curse scar; _Voldemort_ was the reason that Harry had no parents; _Voldemort_ was the reason that he had spent the last fifteen years living with the Dursleys; _Voldemort_ was to blame for Cedric Diggory's death; _Voldemort_ was behind Sirius' death, and now _Voldemort_ had killed Fred and George Weasley.

Harry got out of bed and started pacing the room angrily.

'Why me?' he whispered to the empty room. 'Why do I have this connection with Voldemort? Why do I have to kill him? How is a sixteen year old supposed to defeat one of the most evil, powerful dark wizards?'

'How did a one year old defeat him? Or an eleven year old? Or a fourteen year old? Or a fifteen year old?' a voice asked.

Harry turned around to face the canvas on the otherwise bare walls. The portrait belonged to Phineas Nigellus, Sirius' great-great grandfather and the least popular Headmaster Hogwarts had ever had.

'First sign of madness, you know? Talking to yourself.' Phineas chortled.

Harry ignored this comment.

'I didn't have to kill him before.' Harry said flatly.

'What?' Phineas sounded confused.

'You asked how I defeated him before. But I didn't - not really. I just postponed his rise to power.' Harry explained. 'I didn't have to kill him before.'

'Why do you have to kill him this time?' Phineas asked.

'Because, if I don't he's always going to be a part of my life. I'll know every time he's happy, or angry, or upset. And he'll keep coming after me, killing my friends and the people I care about. I can't let that happen.' Harry replied. 'I have to stop him. And I have to make sure that he can never come back.'

Phineas' response was drowned out by a piercing scream. At first Harry thought it was Mrs. Black, until she herself began screaming and shouting.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, and the door of Harry's bedroom flew open.

'Harry!' Hermione said breathlessly. 'You have to come downstairs! It's Fred and George - they're OK! They're OK, Harry!' she sobbed happily, throwing her arms around Harry's neck.

Harry hurried downstairs, closely followed by Hermione, racing past Mrs. Black's portrait _('Filth! Scum! Blood-traitors! Plebeians!'),_ and down to the basement kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was stood next to her sons, looking decidedly pale - almost as if she had seen a ghost.

'I thought you were dead.' Mrs. Weasley sobbed, tears cascading down her ashen face.

'Bit morbid, Mum.' Fred replied. 'We were helping the Ministry.'

'But you could have sent an owl, or used Floo powder, or...' Mrs Weasley threw her arms around her sons and enveloped them in a suffocating embrace.

'I thought you were dead.' she repeated.

'We will be in a minute.' George grinned, 'We can't breathe.'

Mrs. Weasley pulled away and held her sons at arms length.

'I thought I'd never see you again. I never told you how... setting up a successful business on your own... inventing all those wonderful things...' she babbled.

'What your mother is trying to say is that-' Mr. Weasley started.

'We're so proud of you!' Mrs. Weasley interrupted, hugging her sons once more.

Fred and George exchanged looks of sheer bewilderment.

'So...who died?' Ron asked curiously.

'Well, it was Flourish and Blotts and the Magical Menagerie that suffered the most - all that was left was a pile of rubble-' Fred began.

'What about all those poor animals?' Ginny gasped.

'The manager of the Magical Menagerie left a few weeks ago - taking all the animals with her. But Flourish and Blotts was still open for business. The manager and a couple of people doing some shopping were in there when it happened.' George said grimly.

'That's terrible.' said Hermione tearfully. 'Those poor people, and all those books...gone.'

'But why did Voldemort destroy the shops? I doubt that anything in Flourish and Blotts or the Magical Menagerie would have stopped his rise to power.' Harry questioned.

'It wasn't about the shops, Harry.' Lupin answered. 'Voldemort was proving a point. He wants everyone to know that nobody is safe from his wrath.'

The momentary happiness Harry experienced at having discovered Fred and George were alive and well, suddenly disintegrated. If Voldemort had destroyed shops, killing people in the process, just to prove a point, what else was he capable of doing?


	7. The Long Ride Home

**_Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of The Dark Lord_**

****

_For the record: This chapter was written backin September 2004, and therefore any similarities to **Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince **are purely coincidental. Thank you._

- CHAPTER SEVEN -

_The Long Ride Home_

'Come on, _come on! _We're going to be late,' Mrs. Weasley's anxious voice floated up the stairs.

Harry quickly shoved the rest of his belongings in his trunk, not even bothering to care that his school robes would be creased by the time he put them on. He grabbed Hedwig's cage from the top of the wardrobe and raced out of his room in Grimmauld Place for the last time that summer.

'Will you _hurry up_!' Mrs. Weasley called again, over the cacophony of Mrs. Black's portrait.

Harry dragged his trunk down the stairs, towards a rather flustered-looking Mrs. Weasley. Hermione and Ginny were already by the door, standing beside Tonks and Lupin, hurriedly eating some toast while they waited for Ron and Harry.

'Ronald Weasley!' Mrs. Weasley almost screamed, turning a shade of purple that even Uncle Vernon would have been proud of. 'Will you get down here this instant!'

Ron appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, his clothes hanging out of his fastened trunk, and his red hair uncombed and wild.

'_Look at the state of you!_' Mrs. Weasley cried angrily, taking in the sight of her dishevelled son. 'How come everyone else has managed to get ready on time but you?' she tutted, trying to flatten the ginger mop on Ron's head.

'I overslept.' Ron muttered tiredly.

Mrs. Weasley tutted again in disapproval, eyeing his badly-packed trunk.

'Have you remembered everything?' she asked sceptically, opening his trunk, and trying her best to make everything fit in tidily.

'Er,' Ron began uncertainly.

'What about Pig?' Ginny asked.

A look of horror washed over Ron's face, as he raced back up the stairs, returning moments later with Pig, twittering happily in his cage.

'Right.' Mr. Weasley sighed, as his wife closed Ron's trunk. 'Are we finally ready?'

The twenty minute walk from Grimmauld Place to Kings Cross station was very surreal. Harry's previous visits to London had always involved hundreds of people walking around, trying to get to their destination as quickly as they could. But today was different. The "plague" had forced even the busiest of people indoors, and so the streets were deserted. Harry got the feeling that they could have flown to the train station on broomsticks and no-one would have noticed.

Kings Cross station was also empty, apart from a homeless couple huddled by the ticket stand. They were obviously using the abandoned train station as a shelter from the "infected spores" outside. They shot Harry and the group a strange look as they walked past. Probably wondering what sort of idiots would go outside while there was a plague, Harry thought.

Butterflies filled Harry's stomach as he reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Beyond this wall was the Hogwarts Express. He was finally going home. With one last look around, just to make sure the homeless couple couldn't see him, Harry drew in a deep breath and ran towards the barrier.

Steam bellowed from the Hogwarts Express, filling platform nine and three-quarters with a hazy, smelly smog. All around, Hogwarts' students were saying tearful farewells to parents, and climbing aboard the scarlet engine. There was a distinct feeling of apprehension in the air, as scared witches and wizards glanced around the platform nervously every few seconds, as if expecting Voldemort to appear at any moment. Harry couldn't help but wonder how the other students were coping with his enemy's rise to power.

'Now then, dears,' Mrs. Weasley began, 'Do take care, won't you? Stay in the castle, and try not to break any school rules,' she continued, handing out sandwiches to Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. 'And for heaven's sake, _don't go looking for trouble_.' she added, staring pointedly at Harry.

'_We_ never go looking for trouble - trouble comes looking for _us_!' Ron replied exasperated.

'Yes, well, just you make sure it doesn't.' Mrs. Weasley retorted.

'Well, goodbye,' Lupin said, shaking Harry's hand. 'We'll see you at Christmas, hopefully.'

The warning whistle sounded, and Mrs. Weasley quickly hugged everyone before ushering them onto the train.

'Bye!' she said tearfully, as the train began to move. 'Remember to write, won't you Ron?'

'Yes, mum.' Ron groaned, embarrassed.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and Lupin until they were just a distant blur. Then the train turned a corner, and the platform disappeared from sight.

'I suppose we should go and find a compartment, then?' Ginny asked.

'Ron and I have a prefect meeting first,' said Hermione. 'But it shouldn't take long.'

'We're just going to meet the new prefects and the new Head Boy and Girl.' Ron added, sounding bored.

'I wonder who they are?' Hermione replied zealously, making her way to the prefect's carriage.

'Who cares?' Ron whispered, so that only Harry could hear him.

Harry suppressed a laugh.

'Well, it looks like it's just you and me,' Ginny smiled.

Harry began to walk down the long corridor of the train, carrying Hedwig's cage in one hand and dragging his trunk behind him with the other.

'Harry! Ginny!' Neville Longbottom's voice called from behind them. 'I've already found us a compartment!'

Harry turned around and followed Neville into the compartment.

'Hello, Harry,' a dreamy voice said from behind the latest edition of _The Quibbler_.

'Oh, hey Luna,' Harry replied, surprised.

Harry had met Luna Lovegood, the previous year, and despite finding her rather odd at first, with her protuberant eyes and necklace of Butterbeer corks, he had soon grown quite fond of her.

After placing his and Ginny's trunks in the luggage rack, Harry took a seat by the window, opposite Luna and Neville.

'Did you do well in your O.W.Ls, Harry?' asked Neville.

'Yeah, I passed everything but History of Magic.' Harry grinned. 'How about you?'

'Well I got a 'P' for Transfiguration, a 'D' for Divination, and a 'T' for Potions,' Neville replied, blushing slightly.

Harry tried not to look too nonplussed. He knew Potions had been Neville's worst subject, but he honestly thought Fred and George were joking when they told Harry that the worst O.W.L result anyone could get was 'T' for Troll.

'But I passed all my other subjects,' Neville continued. 'And I even got an 'O' for Herbology.' he beamed. 'And at least now I've failed Potions, I'll never have to be taught by Professor Snape again!'

Harry grinned. If he didn't need to take Potions to become an Auror, he might have "accidentally" failed, just to avoid another year with Snape.

'So, how's your summer been?' Harry asked Neville.

'Not very good.' Neville admitted grimly. 'News of You-Know-Who growing stronger has been all over the front of the _Daily Prophet_, and Gran's getting really worried.' he shivered. 'Then, when I went to Diagon Alley to buy a new wand, there was this _huge_ explosion just before we were about to go into Flourish and Blotts for my school books. It was dead scary.'

'Voldemort's been affecting the Muggles too.' Harry confessed. 'Of course, they don't know it's Voldemort, they think it's a plague,' he added.

Luna peered at Harry over the top of her magazine.

'There's a very interesting article about _him_ in here.' she stated. 'Perhaps you should read it.'

Intrigued, Harry took the magazine from Luna, and searched the contents page.

_The Grim Truth about Gringott's Goblins._

_The Immortal Properties of Chocolate Frogs._

_Increase Your Brain Power - Buy a Flobberworm!_

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; Murderer or Misunderstood?_

Harry reread the title of the last article, convinced he'd got it wrong. Who on earth could possibly think that Voldemort was _"misunderstood"_ after all the horrible things he'd done?

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the darkest, most evil wizard ever known. His very name incites fear in even the bravest witches and wizards. And now he is back, fifteen years after Harry Potter, alias The Boy Who Lived, destroyed him. Rumours are abound that he wants revenge on sixteen year old Harry Potter, and a second chance at ruling the Magical World._

_BUT DOES HE? _

_Clarissa Buccaneer, landlady of 'The Amble Inn', Little Blyton, says the real You-Know-Who is nothing like the rumours. In fact, according to her, he is a polite, well-mannered gentleman;_

"_I was very surprised when he turned up on my doorstep with his lady friend." Clarissa reveals. "But he was very charming. I made him a cup of tea, and we talked for ages about everything. He said that he deeply regretted accidentally killing Mr. & Mrs. Potter, and would sincerely like to apologise to little Harry. But, unfortunately Harry is under the misconception that his Lordship is trying to kill him." Madam Buccaneer continues, "It's such a shame. His Lordship, or Tommy, as he prefers to be called, wants nothing more than to make it up to Harry. He is such a sweet, kind man. I will welcome him back here in Little Blyton any day."_

Harry couldn't believe what he'd just read. He knew _The Quibbler _had a tendency to print fabricated stories, but saying that Voldemort was a _"sweet, kind man"_ who had _"accidentally killed"_ Harry's parents was taking things a little too far.He was about to tear up the magazine through sheer anger, when Hermione stormed into the compartment, followed a few seconds later, by Ron.

'You will _never_ guess who Dumbledore has made Head Girl,' Hermione hissed angrily.

'Someone from Slytherin?' Neville answered.

Hermione shot him a dark look.

'No,' she spat. 'Cho Chang! An utter _cow_ if ever there was one. She was a rubbish prefect, she didn't even bother to turn up to last years meeting! And now she's Head Girl!' she ranted. 'I wonder who she had to-'

'Hermione! Calm down!' Ron interrupted, taking a seat between Harry and Ginny. 'It could have been worse, it _could_ have been someone from Slytherin,'

'Hmph!' Hermione retorted, sitting down beside Neville, and letting Crookshanks out of his wicker basket.

'Who's the new Head Boy?' Ginny asked uncertainly.

'Oh, Nathan Hart from Gryffindor,' she smiled, her anger instantly subsiding. 'At least he seems to know what he's doing.'

'Oh.' Ginny giggled. 'He's nice.'

Ron rolled his eyes.

The door of the compartment slid open again, and Draco Malfoy entered, followed by his gigantic cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - both of whom were so vast, they could easily give Dudley a run for his money.

'Didn't see your dog at the train station, Potter.' Malfoy drawled. 'What's the matter? Had to put him down?' he grinned malevolently.

Harry clenched his fists angrily.

'Didn't see your father at the train station either, Malfoy. Hasn't he managed to escape from prison yet?' Hermione retaliated.

The smirk on Malfoy's face wavered slightly.

'That's what you think, Mudblood. Actually, I'm surprised you're even on the train - thought you might have been killed by now.' he smiled vindictively.

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed behind him.

'Get lost, Malfoy.' said Ron furiously, removing his wand from the back pocket of his jeans.

Malfoy sniggered, but left the compartment nonetheless, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to follow.

Enraged by the article in _The Quibbler_, and even more so by Malfoy's very existence, Harry gazed angrily out of the rain spattered window, watching the sun try to break out of the heavy grey clouds as the train rattled through the open countryside, drawing ever closer to Hogwarts.

'My _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ has grown.' Neville stated, breaking the angry silence of the compartment.

'Ooh, can I see it?' Luna asked eagerly, putting her magazine down.

Neville removed a grey, boil-covered cactus-looking plant from his bag. Harry recognised it immediately. It was the same plant that had covered him in stink-sap on the train journey last year - and Neville was right, it had grown - it was now at least twice the size it was when Harry had last seen it. He didn't even want to think about how much stink-sap it could eject now. Luckily, the food trolley appeared at that moment, and Neville put the _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ away.

By the time all the cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs had been devoured, the sky had grown dark, and the lamps in the carriages glowed yellowy-orange. Harry peered out of the window, trying to catch his first glimpse of Hogwarts through the darkness.

'We better change,' Hermione said eventually. 'We'll be arriving soon.'

It was with great difficulty that everyone in the small compartment opened their trunks and put on their robes. But, somehow they managed it. Once everyone had sat back down, and there was space to move again, Harry removed the shiny silver Quidditch Captain badge from his trunk and pinned it carefully to his chest, using the black window of the train as a mirror. He'd never expected to become Quidditch Captain, especially after Professor Umbridge had given him a lifetime ban from playing the sport last year. But now Professor Umbridge was gone - out of his life forever, and he was free to play again. He just hoped he could be as good a Captain as Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson had been.

The familiar noise of passengers gathering their belongings filled the carriages, as the Hogwarts Express began to slow down, and Ron and Hermione left the compartment to begin their Prefect duties - supervising everyone as they disembarked the train.

With his trunk dragging behind him, Hedwig's cage in his hand, and a squirming Crookshanks tucked under his arm, Harry left the train, and stepped into the cool night air.

Before him stood the magnificent silhouette of Hogwarts castle, and just ahead of him was Hagrid, shouting his habitual call of 'Firs' years over 'ere ... firs' years.'

Harry inhaled deeply, and grinned. It was good to be home.


	8. The Ballad of The Sorting Hat

**_Harry Potter - Vengeance and Wrath: The Rise of The Dark Lord_**

****

_For the record: This chapter was written back in September 2004, and therefore any similarities to **Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince **are purely coincidental. Thank you._

- CHAPTER EIGHT -

_The Ballad of the Sorting Hat_

The black carriages trundled up the seemingly endless drive, towards Hogwarts. Harry peered through the window, watching as the castle grew closer and closer. He couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for him this year. He'd never had an easy time at school, what, with stopping Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone, finding the Chamber of Secrets and consequently saving the students from a Basilisk, discovering that he had a godfather, and that Ron's rat, Scabbers, was in fact, Peter Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed his parents. Then there was the Mad-Eye Moody impersonator, Barty Crouch, who entered Harry into the Triwizard Tournament, so that Voldemort could be reborn, kill Harry and get a second chance at domination. Then, of course, there was last year... Harry wouldn't be forgetting that in a hurry. And now that Voldemort was no longer in hiding - now he was stronger, well, who knows what would happen this year?

The carriage drew to a halt outside the great oak front doors, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville climbed out, and made their way up the flight of stone steps, and through the doorway.

From the warmth of the torch-lit Entrance Hall, Harry allowed himself one last look at the large, black reptilian-looking horses that pulled the carriages - Thestrals. Creatures that could only be seen by someone who had witnessed death. Images flashed through Harry's mind; a graveyard and a blaze of green light, Cedric lying on the cold ground, a room in the Department of Mysteries, voices whispering from behind a veil...

'Harry?' Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts.

'Huh?' Harry replied, finally looking away from the Thestrals.

'Are you ready to go into the Great Hall?' she asked, concern etched onto her face.

'Yeah,' Harry answered, following his friends through the double doors on the right.

The Great Hall looked as wonderful as it always did for the start-of-term feast. Bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the golden plates and goblets that lined the tables gleamed and sparkled, waiting to be filled with all sorts of delicious food. The four long house tables were packed with excited students, catching up on summer holiday gossip and talking animatedly with friends, whilst the staff at the top table contemplated another year of teaching. Above them, grey clouds swirled over an inky-black star-speckled ceiling, bewitched to look like the night sky.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked towards a table at the far side of the Hall, passed the Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, to join the other Gryffindors.

'All right, Harry?' Dean asked, as Harry sat down across from him. 'Me and Seamus were just wondering who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is. Don't suppose you'd know?'

'No, sorry.' said Harry wearily.

'They've got to be better than that Umbridge woman though, haven't they?' Ron added.

'I hope so,' Hermione replied anxiously, her eyes searching the staff table for any new faces.

Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall burst open and silence fell, as Professor McGonagall walked in carrying a stool and an old hat, and followed by a group of first year students, whose facial expressions ranged from slightly nervous to completely petrified.

'That girl doesn't look much like a first year.' Hermione whispered, pointing to a girl with long, dark hair, who was towering over the other new students.

'Maybe she's just tall for her age?' Ron suggested, as Professor McGonagall placed the three-legged stool before the staff table, and put the dirty, old, patched hat on top of it.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared expectantly at the ancient hat. Then the hat began to move - and what appeared to be a tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

_When Hogwarts was first established._

_Years ago, when I was new,_

_Four noble founders of our school_

_All shared a certain view;_

_To educate all magic folk_

_No matter what their class_

_And hand on their great knowledge_

_As seven years did pass._

_As time elapsed, the four good friends_

_Soon became divided,_

_They each wanted different things_

_And so it was decided_

_That Slytherin would only teach_

_Those with purest blood,_

_And Ravenclaw would teach all those_

_Who were intelligent and good,_

_Gryffindor said he would teach_

_Those who were brave and bold,_

_While Hufflepuff said she'd teach them all,_

_They all had hearts of gold. _

_Several happy years passed by,_

_Until quarrels began once more._

_Then, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff,_

_Slytherin and Ravenclaw_

_Turned upon each other,_

_Each friend wanted to rule._

_And for some time, it seemed to be_

_The end of Hogwarts school._

_After Slytherin had left,_

_The quarrelling did cease._

_But the three remaining friends_

_Never restored peace._

_And ever since that fateful day,_

_The houses were at war._

_But that's not what sorting is about_

_That's not what I am for._

_I know the Dark Lord rises,_

_He grows stronger every day._

_And Hogwarts is in danger,_

_No matter what the teachers say._

_This is a time to come together,_

_And leave rivalries in the past._

_To forget our petty differences_

_And we must do it fast._

_Listen close to what I tell you;_

_It's time that we stand tall._

_We must unite, and do it now,_

_Because divided we will fall_.

The Sorting Hat finished, and the Hall was filled with applause and worried whispers, as students decided what to make of the Sorting Hat's new song.

'Even the Sorting Hat must be worried,' Neville whispered. 'It's never mentioned You-Know-Who before.'

Ron gulped.

'Do you think it knows something we don't?' he stammered. 'Maybe a load of Death Eaters are going to Apparate into the school and kill us while we're all asleep?' he added, glancing around the Hall nervously.

'Oh, Ron!' Hermione chided. 'How many times do I have to tell you? No-one can Apparate _or_ Disapparate inside the Hogwarts grounds. One of these days I'm going to force you to read _Hogwarts: A History_.'

The conversation came to an end as Professor McGonagall began to unroll a large scroll of parchment.

'Listen closely, first years,' she began. 'When I call your name, you will come up here, sit on the stool and put the Sorting Hat on your head. When the hat declares your house, you will join your fellow house-mates at the appropriate table.

'Abercrombie, Callum.'

A terrified-looking boy hurried to the front of the group, trembling with fear as he sat down on the stool, and placed the hat on his head.

_'Gryffindor.' _shouted the Sorting Hat.

The Gryffindors erupted with cheers, as little Callum Abercrombie joined the table.

'Bennett, Joseph.' Professor McGonagall called.

_'Ravenclaw.'_ the hat bellowed.

'I wish they'd hurry up - I'm starving!' Ron grumbled, as Elliot Bones became a Hufflepuff.

'Yeah, me too.' Dean whispered, oblivious to the disapproving glance Hermione was giving them.

'I wonder why Snape's looking so happy?' Seamus questioned. 'I don't think I've ever seen him smile before - it doesn't really suit him.'

'Hmm... I overheard Parvati saying that she hearda rumour from Lavender, who was told by Hannah Abbott, that one of the teachers was dating someone from a Quidditch team.' Ron revealed.

'Maybe Snape's dating someone from the Holyhead Harpies?' said Seamus excitedly.

'In his dreams!' Dean scoffed.

'Shhh!' Hermione hissed angrily. 'Some of us are trying to listen to the Sorting.'

The group fell silent, and Harry heard tumultuous cheers from the Slytherin table as David Dawson joined their house.

'Fisher, Cecilia.' Professor McGonagall shouted.

'_Hufflepuff_.'

'Foley, Ella.'

'_Ravenclaw._'

Harry was interrupted from the ceremony once again, as a young woman dressed in royal blue robes exited the door behind the staff table and took a seat between Professor Vector and Madame Pince. She was obviously the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry thought. But she looked more like a student than a professor. Harry noticed he wasn't the only one staring at her - in fact, most of the male students were, and it wasn't hard to see why. With her porcelain skin, and her long brown hair, glowing gold in the flicker of the candlelight above her, she looked truly beautiful. She was definitely a welcome distraction from the tedious Sorting ceremony.

'Moore, Amber.' Professor McGonagall called.

Harry managed to pull his eyes away from the new professor in time to see the tall girl, who Hermione had pointed to earlier, sitting on the three-legged stool and placing the hat on her head.

'_Gryffindor_.' bellowed the hat.

As Amber made her way to the Gryffindor table, amidst yells and cheers, Harry noticed that Hermione was right - Amber didn't look like a first year at all, actually, she could easily have passed as a sixth year.

Once the Sorting Hat had finished dividing the first years into the four houses, Dumbledore stood up.

'I will leave the more lengthy announcements for after the feast.' he smiled, 'Until then, I have only two words for you - _eat heartily_!'

'About time!' Ron muttered, as the tables magically filled with food.

'Do you reckon, she's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?' Dean asked, pointing to the woman in the blue robes at the staff table.

'Dunno.' Ron answered, his mouth full with potato. 'She looks a lot better than Umbridge though!' he snorted.

'I can't get used to Snape smiling,' Seamus shivered, 'It's so creepy, it's putting me off my dinner!'

'Do you think he is dating someone from a Quidditch Team?' said Neville.

'Well if he is, it's not going to be someone from the Holyhead Harpies.' Dean replied.

'Who're the Holyhead Harpies?' Harry asked, intrigued.

Ron gaped at him, his mouth now full with chewed steak-and-kidney pie.

'You've never heard of the Holyhead Harpies?' Seamus asked, gob-smacked.

'Obviously not.' Harry replied testily.

'They're the only all-female Quidditch Team in Britain.' said Ron. 'So, obviously, Snape doesn't stand a chance with any of them!' he grinned.

'I don't think that big-nosed, greasy-haired idiot would stand a chance with anyone!' Seamus laughed.

Hermione cast them a disapproving look.

'Honestly, I thought you'd know better than to believe some silly rumour that was going around.' she berated. 'Especially after all the things the _Daily Prophet_ have printed about Harry.'

'Not to mention that balderdash article in _The Quibbler_, concerning You-Know-Who.' Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, added.

'You read _The Quibbler_?' Hermione asked, in amazement.

'Not usually,' Sir Nicholas admitted. 'But I often hear students talking about articles, and now and again I read the odd feature over someone's shoulder.'

Nearly Headless Nick floated down the table to speak to the new Gryffindors, and the group fell silent once more; too busy eating to talk. Harry finished his last piece of steak-and-kidney pie, and watched in fascination as the remainder of the first course vanished from the golden plates, which were instantly filled with all kinds of delectable puddings.

Harry helped himself to some treacle tart. This was his sixth year at Hogwarts, and his fourth start-of-term feast, but he was still completely awe-struck by all the magical festivities - probably due to the fact that he had spent ten years of his life living as a Muggle.

After the puddings too, had disappeared from the tables, and all of the students were feeling comfortably bloated, Dumbledore stood again.

'Now we are all pleasantly full, I will ask for a moment of your time to issue a few notices.' Dumbledore began. 'First of all, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to inform you that Portable Swamps, Weasleys' Wildfire Whizzbangs and any other type of fireworks are prohibited inside the castle grounds. The full list of forbidden items can be found in Mr. Filch's office.' he smiled. 'I would also like to remind you that the forest is out-of-bounds to all students.' he continued, staring pointedly at Harry, Ron and Hermione, 'And, due to unfortunate circumstances, weekend trips to Hogsmeade have been cancelled.'

There was a great tumult from the pupils, who were all appalled with this latest development.

Dumbledore raised his hands to silence them.

'Now, now. I'm sure you'd all rather stay at Hogwarts than go outside the grounds and risk being killed by Voldemort's followers.'

Another uproar ensued, as panicked voices filled the room.

'I'm sure I don't need to remind any of you that you will all be very safe within Hogwarts.' he added calmly. 'I would also like to introduce our new Potions teacher, Professor Plumpton-Black.' he said, gesturing at the young woman in the royal blue robes.

A deafening applause, and a few wolf-whistles replaced the panicked commotion, and Professor Plumpton-Black blushed in embarrassment.

'What?' Ron whispered, 'Potions? I thought she was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?'

Harry shrugged in confusion.

'It's also my great pleasure to announce that Professor Snape will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts.' Dumbledore continued.

Snape grinned broadly, flashing his yellowing teeth, but the only applause came from the Slytherin table.

'Oh, no!' Neville looked like he was about to cry. 'I should have failed Defence Against the Dark Arts instead!'

'No wonder he looks so happy.' Dean added. 'He's been after that job for years.'

'And I would also like to welcome back Rubeus Hagrid, who will resume his role as professor of Care of Magical Creatures, and Professor Trelawney, who is returning as Divination teacher - a position she will be sharing with Firenze.' Dumbledore proceeded. 'Now, I'm sure you're all eager to get back to your common rooms. Prefects, if you'll lead the way, please.' he finished, sitting back down.

Utter commotion filled the Great Hall, as hundreds of students all rushed towards the double doors, and back into the Entrance Hall. Prefects were all yelling for the first years to follow them, and the poor first years looked thoroughly bewildered.

Harry steered a few of the new Gryffindors in the direction of Ron and Hermione, making sure that no-one got lost on their first night in the castle. He followed his other house-mates as they made their way up the staircases and towards the Gryffindor Tower, which was cleverly concealed behind a large portrait of a rather large lady in a silky pink dress.

'Password?' said the Fat Lady.

'Constant Contumely,' Hermione replied.

'And I expect none of that from you!' the Fat Lady chortled, as the portrait swung open revealing a hole in the wall.

There was a slight commotion as every Gryffindor student tried to climb through the hole at the same time. But soon everyone was relaxing in the warmth of the circular common room. Harry was too tired to sit in one of the many cushioned chairs and sofas surrounding the crackling fire, instead, he bid Hermione goodnight and made his way up the stairs to his dormitory.

Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean were already getting changed for bed when Harry entered theroom. Harry too, changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, overcome by tiredness as his head hit the soft pillow.

'Bit disappointing that we can't go to Hogmeade this year, isn't it?' Seamus muttered sleepily.

'Hmm.' Harry managed to murmur.

'What do you think of Professor Plumpton-Black?' Neville whispered, also on the verge of sleep.

'She's pretty,' said Dean. 'I'm glad I'm still taking Potions.'

'I'm not looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, though.' Ron mumbled.

The conversation ended suddenly, and the whispered discussion was replaced by gentle snoring and steady breathing as the boys succumbed to sleep.

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